Darkest Hour (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (8 page)

“I don’t know,” Gareth remarked
as Thomas gathered himself for another strike. “I’m fairly well entertained!”
He moved out of the way as Thomas suddenly appeared in his face, sidestepping
in order to avoid a strike. Thomas went careening off, out of the circle as
Gareth back-pedaled to the other side. “That was too close.”

Thomas lurched back into the
center of the circle, and locked eyes with Ranulf, who was glaring murderously
at him.

“Why don’t you just lie down and
die?” he snarled. “You should have realized how fruitless it is to stand
against the three of us after being flattened so many times. Unless all those
hits to your head have addled your brain?”

Thomas raised his fists, his lips
curving. “My brain is functioning just fine, thank you.” His body was bruised
from head to toe, and yet there was a rush of something heady flowing through
his veins, filling him with a terrifying combination of joy and power.

Ranulf raised a fist. “Don’t back
talk to me like that, you half-breed.”

Thomas tilted his head slightly
to the left. “You call me ‘half-breed’ as though it is a weakness, rather than
my greatest strength.”

“Your greatest strength?” Haden
mocked. “Where was this strength of yours the last few days, no, hours, when we
were pounding you into the ground?”

Thomas kept his eyes on Ranulf.
“My status as a half-breed gives me something that neither of you three will
ever have.”

“And what is that?” Ranulf
sneered.

“My humanity.” The three vampires
laughed, but Thomas stood his ground. “You three have been immortal for so long
that I doubt you understand what it means to be human, to have a true
appreciation for life, both your own and the lives of those around you.” Thomas
felt a sharp pang in his chest as he said the words—a reminder of everything
he’d lost as well as gained ever since that fateful night when Malachi had
bitten him. “The only thing you all have left is the instinct to kill. But I
have the instinct to survive, and that is why I get up after you push me down,
and why I will continue to do so until I have won.”

“Enough of this idle banter,”
Ranulf growled, his eyes burning crimson. “It’s time to put our killing
instinct to good use! Let us end this game!”

The three vampires charged him at
once, but Thomas freeze-framed—one moment he was standing in the center,
the next he was behind Haden. His foot snapped out, catching Haden in the back,
and there was a loud crack of bone before the vampire shot across the clearing
before skidding in the grass. The other two vampires froze, and then turned
slowly. Thomas nearly laughed aloud at the near-comical expressions of shock
and horror on their faces.

“Why you filthy—” Gareth
exclaimed. “You won’t go unpunished for that!” He rushed forward at
hyper-speed, closing the distance between them in an instant, and Thomas
sidestepped to avoid the fists flying in the air.

“I think I’ve already been
punished enough!” Thomas roared, blocking the punches, and then he grabbed
Gareth by the arm and swung him directly into an approaching Ranulf. The two
vampires went crashing to the ground, and Thomas was on them in an instant,
kicking Gareth viciously out of the way and then falling on Ranulf so he could
jab his elbow against the hollow in the giant’s throat.

“I think my instinct to survive
is stronger than your instinct to kill.”

* * *

Elsbeth sat in the living room,
worrying her lip with her teeth as she worked at a piece of embroidery. Six
days had passed since she’d first arrived here with Thomas, and she knew they
were running out of time. It was too much to hope that Mistress Amelia would
take much longer to ferret out their hiding place.

Thomas was outside training again
with the three vampires—she could hear their shouts and good-natured
cursing, which brought a small smile to her lips. She’d been worried that the
vampires’ attitudes toward half-breeds would impede Thomas, but since that day
he’d defeated them they seemed to have grown a newfound respect for him. Not
only were they continuing to spar with him, but they had decided to teach him
mind-control techniques so he could better harness the flow of his power.
Elsbeth was ridiculously proud of how far he’d progressed in such a short time.
She’d been right to bring him here to Xander.

Her brow furrowed at the thought
of her mentor—he’d been shut in his room all night, and had not responded
when she’d knocked on his door to ask if he wanted any tea. She knew that he
liked to meditate, as it gave him better control over his mental powers, but he
usually came out by this time to have a cup with her and talk about the past
and present. He’d always been a good sounding board for her to bounce her fears
and problems off of, and this time had been no different.

She was about to set her
embroidery down again when she heard his door open, and then the patter of feet
rushing down the hall. Anxiety gripped her throat and she rose to her feet as
he rushed into the room, his eyes wide.

“Bring Thomas in, quickly. I have
terrible news.”

=

“Malachi?” Elsbeth asked faintly,
gripping Thomas’s hand tightly in her own. She was sure that had she not
already been seated, her knees would have given out from beneath her. “He is
coming, with an army of werewolves? Are you sure about this?”

Xander nodded wearily. “My
visions do not lie, Elsbeth. They will likely arrive an hour past sunset
tomorrow, maybe two if we are lucky.”

“Werewolves?” Thomas demanded.
“He’s with the Lyrian Clan?”

Elsbeth nodded miserably. “I had
a feeling something like this could happen. Malachi is renowned for his
tracking skills, and since he knows both you and I best—” Thomas snorted
derisively at that, “—it is only logical that he would be sent to find
us.”

“And he just so happens to have
an army of werewolves at his command,” Thomas sneered.

“I told you the werewolves would
want your blood, Thomas,” Elsbeth reminded him. “I just didn’t expect them to
collect directly.”

“In these types of situations it
is generally expected for the Seethe Mistress to send out a team of assassins,”
Xander explained. “I trained you with that scenario in mind, but this… I don’t
know.” He shook his head. “This is not a handful of werewolves, but the entire
pack, and they have a vampire on their side. We do not stand a chance.”

There was a moment of silence in
which Thomas simply sat, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed in deadly
concentration. “We have until tomorrow night?”

“We do.”

“Then we will use that time to
prepare. I am not going down without a fight. Not after all this.”

* * *

“I’m scared, Thomas.”

Thomas let his shirt slide to the
floor as he turned to face Elsbeth, who was sitting on the bed; her dark eyes
round with anxiety, her face paler than ever. Her hands were sitting in her
lap, fingers twisting into knots, and he kneeled before her and took them into
his own, unraveling the digits and pressing a kiss to each of them.

“I know, love,” he murmured,
unsure of what to say. “I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be all
right. That good always triumphs, and that we can have the happily ever after
we’ve been dreaming about. But I don’t know how this is going to end.”

Elsbeth sighed, blinking away
tears. “I know,” she whispered, tugging one of her hands free so she could
trace Thomas’s face. Her fingers fluttered over his lips. “You’re so strong. So
brave. My fearless warrior.”

Thomas gave her a small smile and
shook his head. “I fear for you, Elsbeth. For your safety, for your happiness.”

She cupped his face with both
hands. “I’m happy as long as I can stay with you.”

Closing the distance, she pressed
her lips against his, and sighed as his strong arms slipped around her waist to
cradle her against his chest. The kiss was sweet, full of tender hopes and
dreams and longings, filled with the future of all that could be between them
if only fate gave them the chance to flourish. Tears pricked Elsbeth’s eyes
again, and she blinked them back determinedly. This could very well be their
last bit of time together, and she didn’t want to taint the memory with grief.

“Make love to me, Thomas,” she
pleaded against his lips. “Please.”

“I could never resist a plea like
that,” he assured her, rising up. He laid her back onto the bed before climbing
up placing his knees on either side of her legs. Elsbeth shivered as he slid
her dress up, slowly, slowly, his hands gliding along the outside of her
thighs, her ribcage, the sides of her breasts. She lifted her arms and allowed
him to pull the garment over her head, then caught her breath as his eyes drank
in her naked flesh.

“I will never get tired of this,”
he murmured huskily, cupping her breasts in his hands. He flicked his thumbs
over her nipples and she moaned. “Of hearing your cries, of looking at your
beautiful body. You’re mine, Elsbeth.” He leaned over and flicked her earlobe
with his tongue. “All mine.”

Elsbeth felt as though her heart
would burst—at the beginning of all this, when the guilt over Thomas’s
fate had nearly crushed her, she’d worried that she would never hear Thomas say
a kind word to her, to say nothing of a declaration of love. She would never
get enough of hearing his impassioned words, of the desire in his eyes or the
way his lips and hands roamed her flesh hungrily, paying homage to her body.

He trailed a hot path from her
earlobe down her neck, and then licked the pulse point near the hollow of her
throat. “Elsbeth?” The question was clear in his voice, and she nodded, her
breath coming fast.

“Take whatever you want.”

His fangs pierced her skin and
she cried out as they sank into her flesh, the pain quickly eclipsed by
pleasure. The soft sucking sounds he made were nearly as erotic as the
sensations coursing through her—moisture pooled between her legs, soaking
her curls and inner thighs, and she clutched him tightly, her nails digging
into his bare shoulders.

Unable to bear another moment of
the hollow ache inside her, she pushed his leggings down his knees using her
toes. He finally pulled his fangs from her and, chuckling darkly, gripped her
hips and slid inside her.

“Thomas,” Elsbeth cried, her back
arching as she was filled to the brim.

“Oh, yes,” Thomas groaned, slowly
rocking his hips as he worked his thick shaft in and out of her. She looked up
at him through half-lidded eyes, her eyes tracing his taut features, his
gleaming, sweat-slicked chest. He should have looked fearsome in the
candlelight, with his hair in disarray, his eyes burning and the ring of blood
around his mouth, but he just looked sexy.
Deliciously so.

Levering up on her elbows, she
traced a long line up from his abdomen to the middle of his chest, tasting the
salty sweat on his body. His muscles quivered beneath her mouth, and she smiled
as he groaned.

“I’m not going to last very long
if you do things like that to me,” he growled huskily.

Elsbeth grinned. “Nothing lasts
forever.”

“But we can slow it down.” He
pushed her back down onto the bed.

He increased the power and speed
of his thrusts, and Elsbeth cried out, her nails digging into his back, the
force of his thrusts shaking the wooden bedframe. He reached between them, his
thumb tunneling through the juncture of curls to find her sweet spot, and he
began stroking it in time to his thrusts, increasing the knot of pleasure
building inside her womb. She came violently, her entire body spasming as her
shrieks echoed off the walls.

Thomas spilled his seed inside
her moments later, then rolled over and pulled her atop him, his shaft still
hard and buried deep within her. She felt it give a latent twitch, and giggled.

“I want to make you do that more
often,” Thomas remarked softly, brushing tendrils of inky hair from her face.

“Do what?” Elsbeth smiled
slightly.

He grinned and squeezed one of
her butt cheeks, making her yelp. “Make you laugh. It is one of the most
endearing things about you, and I don’t hear it enough.”

Elsbeth leaned her head against
Thomas’s chest, closing her eyes so she could listen to the sound of his
heartbeat. “Well, if we make it through tomorrow night, I promise, you will.”

* * *

“Are we almost there, vampire?”
Khan snapped.

Malachi tensed, fighting the urge
to turn around and snarl at the werewolf that if the old bastard would just
be
quiet,
he would have an easier time concentrating. But he knew that would
only earn him more grief from the Alpha, and the tension headache at the base
of his skull warned him that he already had enough grief to begin with.

In the last few days, Malachi had
entertained the idea of killing Khan more than once. He didn’t deny that a
majority of that desire stemmed from the fact that the Alpha was a domineering
bastard who seemed hell-bent on making this as hard as possible on Malachi. He
was constantly badgering him, interrupting his concentration, insulting his
tracking skills, insisting that he was trying to slow them down so that their
prey had more time to prepare.

The last one happened to be true,
but Malachi certainly wouldn’t admit that if he valued his life. But the rest of
it was just insulting, and he wished more than once that the Alpha had not
insisted upon holding his weapons until they reached Thomas and Elsbeth so he
could plant a dagger in Khan’s chest. If doing so would assure Elsbeth’s safety
he would have done it in a heartbeat, would have killed Khan with a tree branch
if he had to, but the other werewolves would simply continue on the
hunt—after they slaughtered him, of course. And if they didn’t, Mistress
Amelia certainly would after discovering that he had single-handedly brought
about the destruction of the peace treaty between the wolves and vampires.

“We should be there within the
hour,” Malachi responded, keeping his eyes focused ahead as he picked his way
through the hastily beaten mountain trail. He had never been to this place, but
he’d heard of it before—this was the home of Xander, a hermit vampire,
who lived here with a few other vampires, a law unto themselves. He was old and
powerful, and would be hard to take down. Under any other circumstances, Malachi
would be running in the other direction.

But as things stood now, he only
felt pity for Xander. The vampire wouldn’t stand a chance against an entire
pack of werewolves.

They continued on, and dread
settled into Malachi’s chest, the weight becoming heavier the closer they got
to their destination. He could practically see Elsbeth in his mind’s eye,
standing in a clearing, her long, black hair blowing in the breeze, tendrils
caressing her sweet face. Her eyes would widen when she saw him, first in shock
and fear, and then narrow in rage as she realized how he’d betrayed her. Them.
It was no longer simply ‘her’ now that she’d chosen Thomas.

“What are your plans once we
reach them?” he asked Khan, wondering if there wasn’t still a way to stop this
despite how far he’d come.

“Kill them all, of course,” Khan
said, matter-of-factly.

“Kill them all? Including the
other vampires who will be living there?”

Khan shrugged. “If they were
stupid enough to aid these two despite knowing we would come, they deserve to die.
Besides, I plan to do quite a bit of vampire killing in the near future. What
is a handful more?”

Malachi stiffened, then stopped
and turned to face Khan fully. “What do you mean by that?”

Many of the wolves growled, but
Khan held up a hand and they quieted. A genial expression crossed his face, and
the hairs on the back of Malachi’s head stood on end. He’d never seen Khan so…
friendly, before, and it worried him greatly.

“When I am finished here, I will
bring my pack around, return to our homeland, and eliminate your Seethe.”

Malachi was stunned. “You would
slaughter us all. After Mistress Amelia has worked so hard to ensure the treaty
is not broken? How could you act so callous, when the two of you used to be
lovers?”

Khan’s face mottled with rage,
and he took a menacing step forward. “Don’t presume to know my mind or heart!
Amelia is not the same woman she once was when I imprinted her. Her years among
vampires have twisted her, corrupted her… I cannot allow her to live this way
any longer. The only way to set her free is for her to die, and to ensure that
happens I must destroy the filth that is her Seethe—and her half-breed
army.”

“Army?” Malachi replied
carefully, his expression going blank. Did Khan know? Or simply suspect? Had he
been toying with him this entire time, taunting him with threats when the plan
had been to kill him all along?

“Yes, her army of half-breeds.
Are you going to lie to my face, when my nose discerns the truth so easily?”

Before Malachi could respond,
Khan snapped his fingers, and one of the nearby wolves stepped up behind him
and gripped his chin, pressing Malachi’s body against the wolf’s hairy chest as
his jugular was exposed. Malachi saw the quick flash of moonlight against the
blade right before it was sliced across his throat, tracing an explosion of
fire across his flesh. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a wet
gurgle as blood filled his esophagus.

“I do not believe we will be
requiring your services any longer,” Khan remarked as the werewolf released
Malachi, who fell facedown to the earth.  “The scent is strong enough that
we can take it from here.”

With a fierce battle cry, Khan
charged up the hill, and his pack followed, their howls echoing across the
mountain as they closed in for the kill.

* * *

Thomas gave the knives Xander had
loaned him one last scrape against the sharpener, and then tucked them into his
boots and sleeves. Around him, the other vampires were doing the same, with
Elsbeth helping in any way she could, either by fetching more supplies or materials,
or simply staying out of the way when she could. Outwardly, the six of them
remained calm, but every time a wolf’s howl struck the night air they
stiffened. The cries were getting louder, and Thomas knew they didn’t have much
time.